It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.Arthur Conan Doyle

It makes sense that the writer who created Detective Sherlock Holmes and his assistant, Dr. Watson would hold the little things in high regard, for his cases were famously solved through the careful observation of a “little detail” hidden in plain sight.

But you know what? Valuing every little thing makes sense for me too. When I’m hoping, watching, longing for something big to happen, it’s easy to overlook a dozen little reasons for gratitude that are right in front of me.

Here's a "little" example: when I'm mountain hiking, I'm always hoping for what I think of as the big sightings - a flock of turkeys, a doe and fawn, or a great horned owl perched overhead...all of which I've seen at one time or another. This weekend, early in my walk I gave wide clearance to a 5 foot black snake, and I realized, after that, I was looking down at exactly where each footstep was landing much more often than usual. (It seemed wise...)

​I didn't see another snake, but I came upon this red-spotted purple, trying to recharge his solar panels on a not-so-sunny day. I watched him for a long time- open, close, open, rest. Pause. (Even butterflies need to pause.) I'm glad I didn't overlook him in the search for something bigger.

Red-spotted purple pause

When I undertake the search for reasons to be grateful, I’m increasingly aware of every.little.thing.

It has become a challenge, as if I’ve given myself a dare to keep looking until I see what is probably always right in front of me.

Dew diamonds on iris

It’s a choice I need to make – every single day – to look and keep looking.

Mostly, I need to remind myself to notice.

Notice. ​I’m becoming a detective of the unobserved because I think Doyle is right...the little things are infinitely the most important. ​

Keep looking for every little reason to say, “Thanks.”

Little visitor at the window...

brave little buttercup in the shadow of an oak

new little trotter in the neighborhood

a few little purple flowers...a whole lot of delight!

Just a few purple blossoms, but oh the joy they have brought to me! I've watched nothing happen on this wisteria plant year after year after year for over a decade. Maybe one blossom, maybe two. But this year? I stopped counting at 30...just a few little flowers, but thankfulness welled up within me every time I saw them. They're gone now; like purple snowfall, the blossoms drifted to the ground. But even the memory brings me joy, and next year I'll be watching every branch for the telltale promise of small, extravagant beauty.

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.Meister Eckhart

I like the focus of this quote - gratitude.

I also know, in all honesty, that I never would have made it to this point in my life without another prayer. I call it the Prayer of Pooh, because as I recall, Winnie the Pooh used this phrase quite often: "Oh, help."

Sometimes that's all I can manage to say, for myself, for someone else, when the needs are overwhelming and words don't work, plans don't work, nothing at all works.

"Oh, help."

​And that prayer is enough. For the asking.

But life is so much more than asking, and I think that's the deeper meaning of Eckhart's quote. There are always reasons to say "thank you" to the Giver of all good gifts.

But if God already knows my thoughts, my intent, the state of my heart, why bother to say thanks at all? Is it just "being polite" to God? I don't think so.

I believe thankfulness matters most because of what happens in me when I choose to say "thank you," to continue that list of gratitudes on the worst (unending) days of winter, dragging into...April. (Snow. In April. At least three times.) But, oh, that last snow, clinging whiteness in the dark of night...ethereally beautiful. Even in April. I can still remember it vividly.

When I choose to say thank you, I see reasons to say thank you.

When I say it, I see it.

All around me, small and large reasons for gratitude begin to catch my eye. The more I say, it the more I see it.

I don't "get more" reasons to be thankful, I simply become more tuned in to the thousand reasons I already have.

Granted, some days that's easier than others. Days when spring is suddenly here, there, everywhere. Days like today. Yesterday too. And who knows? Maybe tomorrow. But for today...

I want to remember to say "Thank you" for...

​1. New life in the pasture,and the reminder that wool color is just wool color...​and sheep are sheep. ​(and the greener grass is on the other side of the fence!)

Ferguson and her two lambs.

​2. Ears to hear..."Flicka, flicka, flicka."(No green in sight, but he's still a sure sign of spring!)

​3. Eyes to see the golden-green willow,the bluest sky,the soft pink reaching along the mountain,the clouds chasing each other...​pick one, pick them all.

​4. Smiling faces in garden places, ​wearing green leafskirts.

​5. Happy voices of recess-carefree childrenon the green-grass hill.

6. Spider web hen and chicks and little knobs of green popping up in my play garden, waiting...

7. Big view sky in my little greening valley

Thursdays are for thankfulness, and that's my list for today, the signs of spring all around me, seven ways of looking at, looking for, saying thank You, thank You, thank You for the green, green green.

Thanksgiving. Sometimes giving thanks seems like the hardest part of the day. Harder than stuffing the turkey and figuring out the family stuff. Harder than ignoring the political discussions that probably shouldn't have been broached because there's so much ugly from both directions. Harder than missing the ones who belong in the empty seats.

The journey to gratitude can seem uphill all the way, and stormy too.

At some point we all end up on this path at least for a season. (It just seems like forever...maybe. Hmm.)

It's just how life is. You know, real.

Hard.

If this is your season, this song is for you. I couldn't find a video that I liked, so I'm linking this audio with a couple of pictures.

I’ve heard a lot of talk about gratitude lately. People are blogging about gratitude, lists having been popping up on Facebook, and gratitudejournals abound…a quick google search yielded 36 options available for purchase before a repeat appeared, and there were plenty more to follow. Even Wikipedia has a gratitude journal page:

"A gratitude journal is a diary of things for which one is grateful. Gratitude journals are used by individuals who wish to focus their attention on thepositivethings in their lives."

This definition is followed by a lengthy summary of current research citing the benefits of keeping some sort of written record (a place to document one’s reasons for gratitude) as well as studies examining the most effective methods:– How often to write it down – daily? weekly? -How many examples to include – (Most studies investigating gratitude journals have found that including 3-10 items in each gratitude journal entry yields the most beneficial results.)

The word gratitude seems to be a more trendy term for the old fashioned word we are celebrating today:

Thanksgiving.

And as I read and reread the above article andothers, I wondered about the glaring omission of the second half of the word, the “giving” part ofthanksgiving.As I read social media lists of "thanks for my family and my friends and all this food…” it seemed as if the whole world…(okay, country, on this national holiday) was grateful in an inch deep “hooray for my stuff” kind of way.

Is this all there is to Thanksgiving? Maybe so. Maybe that’s why the day supposedly devoted togratitudefor “all we have” is celebrated by over-consumption and followed immediately by Black Friday, a day characterized by greed and all that is ugliest about the Christmas shopping season. Maybe Thanksgiving Day = I love all my stuff and Black Friday = I just need more stuff…for other people of course. (Is this the “giving” part?)

It seems that many of us are using the word “thanksgiving,” saying what it is for which we are giving thanks without acknowledging to whom we are giving thanks.

In normal daily living this would be considered unacceptable or at least awkward: Consider these comments:​This Christmas I am giving a basketball. I am going to give a piece of my mind. I will be giving $1000.

The question screaming to be answered is “to whom.” Am I giving the basketball to you? Who is the unfortunate one on the receiving end of a piece of my mind?...(a piece I am likely to miss sorely, and which will cost me my own peace of mind…but that’s a different post.) Who is the lucky recipient of $1000?

​

In whispered moments this Thanksgiving Day, I think I hear these questions:

To whom am I giving thanks?

Is my focus mostly on the gifts,​or am I centered on the Giver? When I amthankfulfor my family, for my table loaded with food, for my houseful of stuff ​– am I just feeling smug that I’ve got all this, am I glad that my kids are so amazing, am I proud of myself and pleased that I could accumulate all this stuff?? Oh, ouch.​This is not what I want, not who I want to be. But I don’t want to give up, I want to move forward to a better place. So…I take another look, at

Gratitude? Oh, yes I want to be a person of gratitude! I don’t want to just throw in the towel, I want to wash the grime from my face, my soul, and feel the soft warmth of the towel for the gift it is.

A gratitudejournal? I’ve been keeping one for years, and I won’t stop now. I am living out the benefitsevery day– reduced anxiety and depression, increased resilience, a perspective that helps me see what is good in every (hard) day! But I don't want to lose track of the Source of these amazing gifts.

Thanksgiving Daycelebration? I want to say “Yes!”- yes to gathering with those I love,-yes to rememberingand being gratefulfor loved ones who aren’t here, -yes to enjoying family traditions (My part is hickory nut cake and baked corn as usual) and​-yes to laughter and camaraderie around the table.

But underlying all this,I want to restore and strengthen my foundation ofgratitude,​ ofthanksgiving, giving thanks TO the One from whom all blessings flow.

I want to begrateful not just for the gifts, but even more, for the Giver of every good and perfect gift. (James 1:17)

And for the other gifts, the ones I can’t see as perfect or even good? For those gifts I also trust the Giver, who makes all things beautiful in His time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

​And at the top of today's gratitude list?

The promised Presence.

On days when the turkey smell wanders like a good memory through every room -gratitude for The Presence. And on days when I wander, room to room, grieving for reasons I cannot explain -gratitudefor The Presence.

For God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5)

God chooses to be present,I will choose to begrateful.

Not only for the gifts, but even more, for the Giver. O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.; for His steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136:1 RSV ​

﻿Like everyone else, I blinked twice, and August slipped away like sunset clouds on a late summer evening. Suddenly it’s time to resume school schedules and routines, and that’s not all bad. Now that Youngest Mystery is in a brick and mortar school for most of each day, I’ve re-discovered the glory of morning porch moments! The word “delicious” comes to mind, a feast for the soul with a side of coffee. I'm establishing a new routine, and I'm loving it! One neglected tradition I’d like to resume this season is posting more consistently from my gratitude list…maybe not every Thursday, but frequently. And, I would love to have you join me!!

﻿I’ve tried to “move on” from The List several times, to no avail.Perhaps it is the perfect fit for me – a daily list for a chronic list maker.But this list is different.

I don’t check things off, I add them on, collect them, line by line, seven items a day, my list of thankfulness.

﻿Some days, the page can hardly contain the entries – blessings so great I struggle to find words to describe them.

But most days my list is filled with ordinary moments where I caught a glimpse of something More. Moments when I paused just a second longer, where I sat and waited, and felt gratitude wash over me in a wave of unexpected joy.

And then there are days (like Wednesday) when I feel like I am barely making it, when life is harder than I ever thought it would/should be, when finding moments for gratitude doesn’t even make my “to do” list.

Those are the days I need my list the most.

So, whatever kind of day you are having, let me urge you to begin the keeping of The List. I think you will find it habit forming in the best possible way…Here we go, for today:﻿

﻿﻿Thursdays are for thankfulness – gratitude for big lessons from small things.﻿

Little green promise leaves.

﻿1.Spinach leaves emerging for a fall crop.Planting seeds is a form of Hope Therapy. It means the planter believes that life goes on, that the end of summer isn’t really The End; it’s just a transition to What’s Next. I like seeing more brown earth in the garden now that the growing season is fading, but I miss the fresh newness of spring. These little shoots help me to embrace what’s coming with the promise of just a few more green salads from Hickory Lane before…(you know…snow.) Transitions tend to be big stress points on Hickory Lane, and I need this reminder to look for little green shoots, to find ways to ease through the change without denying it, to hold on to hope, to remember that this isn’t the end. It’s just a transition to “What’s Next.”

Frog surprises of joy.

﻿2. Frog visitor on water lily leaves. This little fellow showed up two days ago from who knows where. When I saw him perched on that floating leaf, a living illustration from a children’s storybook, I thought maybe it was worthwhile after all to have invested in yet another (non-blooming) pond lily. Life is like this, regularly. You invest in something with a goal to an expected end, and it just doesn’t bloom. The leaves float there, lonely and forlorn, and not even a hint of a bud appears. It seems it was all for nothing. And then a little frog shows up and you realize that while it wasn’t how you planned it, life is still good.

﻿

Bird beauty on a necessary wire.

﻿3.Bird on a wire. These small creatures of delicate beauty seem to love the unsightly, bulky wire(s) that crisscross the view above my garden. Not just the ordinary birds, but all of my special favorites -hummingbird, tree swallow, bluebird, goldfinch, orchard oriole-perch and preen and sing from The Wire.

And I’ve noticed something: That old wire doesn’t seem so ugly when tiny wings are resting there, held above impossibly thin legs with even thinner toe/claws clinging tightly to The Wire. My perspective is being altered because my beloved birds spend so much time perched on it, suspended above the garden as I work. Oh, the transformation that happens when perspective is refocused.

Glorious morning reminder.

﻿4. Morning glory bloom. These crazy vines have been surreptitiously attempting to take over the garden. The asparagus patch is a snarl of vines, as are the cosmos plants in the east corner of the garden. Worst of all, the heirloom yellow rose bush is disappearing, and de-vining those thorn covered branches will be painful. But look at that blossom. The exquisite beauty of these flowers cannot be ignored. And the leaves are heart shaped, so there’s that. Some days it’s important to be watchful for beauty and signs of God’s love in unlikely places. ﻿

﻿5. Quiet moments in a small space. Most days, long hours for quiet reverie don’t exist for most of us. Life goes zipping along at full speed, and the luxury of long lazy days is only a dream or a vacation destination that happens annually at best. But moments? Everyone has moments. The pauses between the happenings of our lives are waiting to be noticed and claimed. Look around (and let the phone alone for a bit. That little piece of technology is nibbling away at irretrievable moments.) Really see what is around you. Listen for…whatever you might hear. Bird song. Children’s laughter. Silence. The ticking of the wall clock, marking the seconds of your moment of pause. ﻿Taste/Smell/Touch…glass of cold water when you've finished mowing, new bar of soap in the shower, hair swirling in a light breeze...

﻿Now it's your turn. Find your small reasons for gratitude and listen for the big lessons God has for you along the way.

﻿﻿Thursdays are for thankfulness, and this day is supposed to be the thankful-est Thursday of them all, at least in the United States. Unfortunately, our Thanksgiving celebrating gets all mixed up with pilgrims and football and pumpkins and parades and Norman Rockwell's paintings of the perfect feast.

﻿Often, our gratitude is just as mixed up, spread a mile wide (Thank you that we aren't persecuted/poor like those unfortunate people in ________ pick a country)

and an inch deep. (Thanks for all our stuff. And our perfect family!)

And does anyone else think it's ironic that the national day for supposedly showing gratefulness for "all our stuff" is immediately followed by "Black Friday," a day known as the pushin'est, shovin'est shopping day of the year?

Apparently we aren't as grateful as we'd like to let on. (Or maybe we think our friends/relatives aren't, since we're supposedly shopping for them!) Black Friday horror stories abound, and they're characterized by greed and numerous of the other deadly sins (including wrath, pride, lust, and envy, leaving only sloth and gluttony which most people probably checked off the list the day before!And then, faster than you can cook and carve an 18 pound bird and clean up the dishes, Thanksgiving is gone, forgotten, re-shelved until the turkey hunger returns in 364 days.

﻿Thanksgiving.

Thanks giving.

Giving thanks. ﻿

﻿We juggle the phrase around like a loose football, but neglect to practice it on any level that would make the day, or our lives, meaningful.Even in church settings, we have a tendency to speak of our many blessings, but then limit our superficial list to what we have that a lot of other people don't have, and aren't we "blessed…" or are we just lucky? You know, warm house, plenty of clothes, healthy bodies, food and more food, gathered family, good jobs, toys for one and all…and when I hear those lists, something inside of me cringes.Is that it, is that all we've got on our thankful list?﻿

A cynical but observant young man once commented to me, "Isn't church just about Christians kissing up to God?" Do you know what he meant? Here's the definition for "kissing up"- "to try to please a powerful person, because you want them to do something for you." ﻿

﻿Is that all we're doing when we give thanks?

"Dear God, We love it! (Insert "The List" here.) Please keep it coming! (Notice, I said please!) Oh, and thank you. Amen." That's it, that's Thanksgiving? Or is there more, much, much more? Oh, dear God, you have already done so much, and we ponder it so little.

But what you have done is foundational and transformational, and your love is unconditional.

﻿In the "Prayers of the People" portion of the morning office (a more formal type of daily prayer), I regularly read these words: We give you thanks, Almighty God, for all Your gifts so freely bestowed upon us and all whom You have made….

This year those words have been a game changer, a lens refocuser…

what are the gifts so freely bestowed upon us and all.whom. You. Have. made?﻿

﻿The prayer continues: We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of life.Above all- For the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ, For the hope of glory (what's to come!!) And the means of grace (what we need for this day…) We thank you O Lord. Grant us such an awareness of Your mercies, we pray, that with truly thankful hearts we may give You praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves for Your service…

﻿This Thanksgiving season, I want my gratitude to go a little deeper. I want to understand more of the gifts God has freely bestowed on all whom He has made,gifts that He wants to be made available to anyone, anywhere, in any circumstance. I want my list to stir in someone else a longing to move closer to Jesus, to understand more about what God offers.﻿And I want to ask His help to see those in my world who do not yet know the wonder of this amazing list.

Grace. Jesus.

His death.

His resurrection.

The Book.

The Story.

The Promises.

The daily Presence.Strength for today. Hope for tomorrow.

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside...

﻿Still thanking, still counting, because Thursday are for thankfulness. Especially this one.

I don't have official numbers to confirm this, but I think the "treeb" (a PA Dutch word that means cloudy, misty, and generally miserable) days have outnumbered thegolden ones. Earlier in the season, prognosticators explained that the leaves would be unusually spectacular this year. I waited for the glory. And waited. Fast forward to recent weeks when the sun barely made a showing, and the forecast offered the following options: "rain, partly cloudy, misty, chance of showers" for five-six-seven consecutive days. As you might imagine, weather whining commenced. It was hard to get any outside work done; the garden looked disheveled and rumpled, like twelve unmade (raised) beds in serious need of attention.

﻿My gardening friend arrived one day between showers to harvest broccoli and a few peppers. She's not a native Pennsylvanian, having grown up in a much milder climate on a far continent where winter is a concept but not much of an experience.

As last winter approached, she was heard to say, "It gets down to like…twenty degrees here, right?" Oh, dear friend…. Even for those of us who have always called this home, last winter was memorable. We'd never heard of a polar vortex, and suddenly we were living it. There were many days when the thermometer never made up to twenty degrees.

So, my friend might have been excused had she arrived that dreary day with a complaint on her lips. ﻿

﻿﻿But she did not. Instead, she took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "I've realized something…here in Pennsylvania, this time of year,the sunshine is in the trees."

The. sunshine. is. in. the. trees.

﻿﻿With a simple sentence, she helped me reset my perspective for days. Ahh, those perspecticals, ever in need of readjustment. I had already observed that in spite of gloomy skies, the golden trees seemed to have a glow of their own. Now I looked again, and again, remembering her words, "the sunshine is in the trees."

I went on a search for thatgloryon a day when the clouds hung low and the world seemed doomed to drabness.﻿﻿

﻿﻿I walked to the garden and realized the "endangered bush" would be around for another season…who would dare to eliminate such grandeur?

﻿﻿ I passed the redbud tree; it was waving it's golden-hearted reminders of God's love. For me. Even (especially?!) on the dreary days.﻿﻿

﻿I drove to the mountain and hiked the sunless road, looking with new eyes for the brilliance that still shone forth."The sunshine is in the trees. The sunshine is in the trees..." It did seem as if the radiance had been absorbed into the dying trees for these overcast days. The thought passed through my mind, "I hope I when I die, I reflect this kind of glory..."

﻿Even our quaint little cabin was embellished with tree glory.﻿

Left and right, I spotted brilliant yellows splashing the drab wood scenes. How much splendor could one tree hold? It spilled over into my heart and made me want to laugh. Here I was, hoping the sun wouldn't come out?! I was on a mission to confirm her thesis...the sunshine is in the trees. ﻿And what did I find? Autumn glory in every direction, with or without sunlight.

Sometimes I talk to myself, and sometimes I listen.

This is what I'm hearing right now: ﻿The sunshine is in the trees﻿, HumminB. The sunshine is in the trees.Watch for it.Be present, even in this moment that you thought was so dull.

I'm writing from the front porch today. Granted I might be rushing the season just a bit, but with my favorite sweatshirt and an afghan, I'm warm enough to sit here and hear the truth that March has in fact skipped away like a lamb and left spring in its wake. I can hear the redwing blackbirds "dum-tweedle-dee"-ing from the trees along the creek, and a song sparrow serenades me from the garden. In the pasture, a killdeer screams in alarm about dangers real or perceived. Even the ubiquitous doves sound different, coo, coo, cooing from every direction. Spring has (finally!) arrived.

(Excuse me while I go inside for a second afghan. And warmer socks. And a mug of tea.)

﻿What is even more surprising is that I am (finally) ready for it. Although it's been a long winter here in Central PA, with record breaking cold spells, and snow in the form of Alberta clippers, lake effect snows, and nor'easters adding up to more wintry mix than we've had for decades, I've been fine with all of it. I don't know of anyone else who was rooting for the groundhog to see his shadow in February, but I certainly was. Six more weeks of winter sounded just fine to me. I didn’t have the energy to think about tackling all the work that generally accompanies spring in my world. Every year it's the same: when the sun actually shines, all thirty plus windows in our house will be calling for individual two sided care asap, the yard is a mess, and before long the garden will be demanding attention regularly...until frost.﻿

Generally, I look forward to all of that, with great delight and anticipation. But this year was different. I was tired. Thoroughly, through to the middle, tired. Deeply tired in my soul. Empty of energy and in need of rest on a level I don't ever remember experiencing.

I was tired to death…or tired from death. I was no longer actively grieving, although some days still brought (even to this day still bring?!) waves of unexpected sadness. Rather, I was tired of grieving, tired from grieving. I wasn't depressed, I was exhausted.

I didn't know how to pray about what I needed, so I asked a few friends to pray about my longing for rest. I clung to what I have come to call the Prayer of Pooh (as in Winnie the…), a simple phrase that I think God understands, "Oh, help." And God in His perfect timing answered their prayers and mine in one of His signature "Blessings in Disguise," a bout of bronchitis that would.not.quit.

For more than three weeks, resting became my required priority. I fulfilled my daily responsibilities with minimal energy investment…when functioning from a deficit, all output seems to dig the hole deeper, so I propped my shovel in the corner and rested.

I drank a lot of liquids, and rested. (Ahh, tea.) I read some books, and rested.I took a nap most days, gladly. (I have never been a napper. Ever.) I was content to watch the world go by. I thought about what was happening in me as I embraced the season of rest. (I'll write more about what I learned in a future post.) It truly was God's best gift to me, one I never would have imagined, nor would I have requested it. But it was what He gave, and what I most needed, a season of rest.

Thursdays are for thankfulness. Blessings in disguise. Bronchitis. Oh, and spring!

I miss it sometimes, only noticing His grin in the rear view mirror as a scene fades from the present to the past, overhearing a quiet chuckle at the end of a day…But this week, for a change, I discerned the funny side smack dab in the middle of it. A persistent theme of gratitude has been emerging in my blog over the past number months, maybe even years…Thursdays are for thankfulness first began back in September of 2011, and I've felt God's nudge more than once that I am slow, so slow in grasping the significance of this truth. Gratitude is at the core of so much of what I've been learning in recent years.

"Gratitude precedes the blessing…." -Ann Voscamp In addition, for the past three months (three months?!) I've been on a little kick about "what's to love about winter" in an effort to counteract all the negativity that creeps into the atmosphere as we all wait for spring. I was feeling that I'd "weathered" the winter pretty well, keeping my murmuring to a minimum. (Going "public" with bold statements about what's to love about winter has kept me accountable in ways I hadn't counted on!!) So, according to the calendar, the Vernal Equinox arrived, March 20, and it was time to move forward.

I tried to ignore the lingering chill, but it was impossible not to notice. The average temperature at 7 am on the days following calendar spring was a nippy 28.85 degrees, rising at noon to a balmy average of 36; some days were calm, but most were blustery and frigid with some hefty wind gusts. I started to wonder if this would indeed be the year without spring, just as 1816 is now characterized as the year without a summer.

And then Tuesday arrived, March 25, and it was my birthday. My husband was hoping for measurable snow so he could stomp out a birthday greeting in the yard (Last year, it looked like this…)

As I poured my coffee, I noticed the temperatures had dropped into the teens; spring was nowhere to be seen, or so it seemed to my shivering self. I might have felt a little grumbly. I know I was cold.

And then, unmistakably, snowflakes drifted past the window. Now and again, all day long, I saw them. Snow didn't accumulate, and there were pauses throughout the day, but it was a day characterized by multiple episodes of floating flurries. Sometimes they swirled gently on the lightest breeze; occasionally, they whipped wildly around the corners. They just kept coming and abruptly I realized how beautiful they all were. Unexpectedly, I laughed, recognizing them for what they were, a million sparkling birthday gifts from God. Yep, snowa lovely gift, even on March 25. For certainly:

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down (DOWN!) from the Father. James 1:17 NIVSo,I made my various stops throughout the day with a grin on my face, accepting again what I know to be true:

God makes all things beautiful in its time Ecclesiastes 3:11...

and apparently this is still the time, His time, for snow.

There was no message inscribed in the lawn this year; instead, the reminder was written on my heart, "Happy birthday" to me, from God. And so today I declare again,

Thursdays are for thankfulness!

Millions of dancingsnowflakes tell me once more ofGod's presence and love.

Author

I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) ​living life as a country woman who is a writer, gardener, wife, mom, nature observer, teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.